


Desire

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: Sam falls victim to his impulses... but to Lucifer, he is always the victor.





	

Something had changed. _Everything_ , in fact, had changed. The delicate thread that had so long trembled across the line of right and wrong had finally snapped in two, desire winning out over discipline and shame. The new colors had cloaked Sam so _beautifully_ that to look away could be considered **blasphemy**. What he referred to as his _darkness_ , Lucifer had only ever seen as a bright, burning brilliance - ethereal golds and rivulets of deep crimson perfection, igniting the night, leaving the archangel in want of nothing more than to go blind from the sheer magnificence of it all. 

Unfortunately, the stubborn mind of a Winchester, it seemed, could not be swayed, even when Heaven and Hell had bore witness to his becoming. He could shed his humanity, and he could emerge a creature unseen, venerated for his predilection for destruction and chaos, but he could not take the steps that led to the devil’s side. It was a sentimental and illogical choice, but it was his to make, and Lucifer could only be persistent in his message, and hope for his other half to come around. 

And Sam _did_ , but never for the reason Lucifer had hoped, not that the archangel would ever turn him away. The hunter would call to him, and the fallen would answer, _every single time_ , without question. He would always find Sam in varying states - high on demon blood, manic from withdrawal, or simply wreaking of alcohol and lust. 

Whatever the case, he was never in a clear mind, and the result was always the same. He would grip Lucifer with hands that were more than rough, careless of the fact that he handled a creature with the power to destroy the entire planet as though he were a doll, perhaps taking twisted satisfaction from the knowledge that Lucifer would do _nothing_ to stop him. 

It was as though every last primal urge the human had ever suppressed was unleashed in these moments, and Lucifer often found himself thrown hard up against a wall, crashing heavily onto the floor beneath them, or just being bent over the nearest piece of accessible furniture. 

There was _never_ passion or gratitude, only the painful kisses to his exposed skin - more teeth than lips - and strong hands leaving bruises upon pale flesh, threading through the short tufts of blond hair and yanking the archangel’s head back with _brutal force_. There were no words - they simply _were not_ allowed. Often Lucifer could not stop the quiet utterances of the man’s name in a tone that was tired and resigned, the ghost of a plea - only to be commanded to “ _ **shut up**_ ,” fingers curling tightly around his throat until breathing was nearly impossible. 

This was not love, but the archangel knew that this was not exactly _lust_ , either. This was Sam, trying to complete himself in all of the wrong ways. The draw to his other half was inevitable and undeniable, and he was calling out to Lucifer night after night, his very being telling him that the archangel was what he needed. 

But not like this. Sam was stripping their connection down to the most basic, primal sense of fulfillment, seeking an instant gratification that would numb his aching need for only a moment, taking everything he could get from Lucifer on a physical level, and then leaving him, spent and hollow and eerily _silent_. 

He was an archangel - he was the devil - he had been prey to Hell’s most sadistic punishments, and this would not break him. The pain in his chest would pass, just as would the dull agony that tore through his vessel. The bruises and tears would heal quickly, and he would go on his way, awaiting the next summoning - the next time his brilliant blue eyes would turn vacant and dull as he told himself that this _was not_ shameful. 

Sam could turn to anyone, but he was turning to _Lucifer_. Sam was stronger than he had ever been, but still, he sought the comfort of his other half, and he would _never_ be denied. 

And then, _unexpectedly_ , something changed again. Once more, Lucifer responded to the call of his **True Vessel** , hardly having focused upon the surroundings before those familiar hands were pushing against his chest, throwing him hard into the nearest wall and turning him around with bruising force. Fingers pulled painfully at his hair, and his head hit the wall with a dull thud, his eyes sliding closed when he felt the trembling fingers grasp urgently at his jeans, buttons pulled loose by the sheer force with which they were yanked partially down his hips. 

 _Withdrawal_. Lucifer knew the tells by now, the desperation laced into every movement speaking to the archangel of the _bloodlust_ the human was combating. As he awaited wordlessly what was sure to follow, he felt the grip on his hair slowly loosen, a lull in action causing him to open his eyes in confusion. 

“ _I’m so sorry_ …” Despite everything, despite the song and dance they had been through time and time again, despite the trained responses and conditioned complacency that had now become a part of this routine, those quiet words managed to change the game. 

Not another beat passed before Lucifer was twisting around, unhesitatingly and unquestioningly reaching up to place his hands gently upon either side of Sam’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had fallen from the bright golden eyes. The man’s entire body was shaking, and he looked more distraught - more _human_ than Lucifer had seen in months. 

“ _No_. Sam, listen to me: you’ve done _nothing_ wrong.” The conviction in Lucifer’s cool voice was becoming of an **Angel of Heaven** , speaking the words as gospel. Still, the man furrowed his brows in a flash of anger, reaching up to pull the archangel’s hands away, shoving him hard into the wall as he shook his head vehemently. 

“What the hell are you talking about? _This_? This is _fucked up_ , Lucifer. This _feels_ pretty fucking _wrong_.” 

“Sam…” Lucifer’s eyes were filled with sympathy for his other half, but it only seemed to anger the human further, his eyes burning as his voice began to rise. 

“ _Don’t_! Just stop it! Stop being so damn forgiving! Aren’t you supposed to be a goddamn archangel? Aren’t you supposed to hate all of humanity and want to turn us all to ash? Then why -” He cut himself short, a look akin to fear crossing his features, as though he couldn’t dare voice the truth that hung between them - as though he couldn’t admit what he had been doing all this time. 

“Because you needed it.” Lucifer’s voice never lost its calm or its certainty. Sam was finally showing him the sliver of light he had been looking for, and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers now. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Sam. You needed it, but now… now you need something else.” He dared to step forward again, his hands coming up slowly, his mannerisms those of someone dealing with a cornered animal. 

This time when he touched Sam’s cheek, the man didn’t push him away. Amber eyes met glacier blues with pleading hope and confusion, and Lucifer drew closer yet, tilting his head and looking upon the human with affection. His palm came up to lie flat upon Sam’s forehead, and, with a sudden wash of cool, bright **Grace** , the man’s trembling form stood steady and solid. 

“ _What_ …” Sam blinked open his eyes, looking slightly bewildered as he glanced over his own body, before once more meeting Lucifer’s gaze. “What did you do?” 

“The demon blood is gone.” He bowed his head slightly, his movements easy and soothing, clearly indicating to the man that his intentions were good. 

“But _why_? I thought you wanted me to drink it? I thought that was the whole point - to be powerful enough to be your vessel.” 

“Sam… you misunderstand. Your power does not lie in the demon blood you consume. Your power lies within _you_ , and you alone. The blood was a catalyst, and it served its purpose - but you no longer require such assistance. It had become a crutch, and it was clouding your judgement.” Lucifer raised his head slightly, stepping forward and lying his hand against the man’s chest. 

“Can I show you something, Sam?” The archangel’s voice was a quiet whisper, his eyes eager and filled with muted excitement. Sam stared into the cool gaze for a long moment, before swallowing hard and nodding hesitantly. Lucifer smiled, stepping back and producing a blade from the very air, reaching over and deftly drawing the sharp knife across his forearm, blood pouring forth in deep red streams. 

“Lucifer! What are you doing?” The alarm in Sam’s voice drew a curious look from the archangel, his brows knitting together as he attempted to reconcile this new (and welcomed) behavior. 

“I’m helping you to meet your potential.” The small smile returned, a dark enthusiasm behind his expression as he lifted his arm a little higher. “ _This_ , Sam - this is what you need. This is why you keep coming back to me, and why you can never seem to sate that appetite of yours.” There was something nearly primal in Lucifer’s gaze now, and Sam couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through his body, thinking that the archangel looked as hungry as Sam felt. 

“You’re sure? I mean… this is -” 

“This is **sacred**.” Lucifer’s voice carried the absolute conviction of Heaven behind it, and Sam immediately thought of Old Testament stories of fire and brimstone and plagues and Heavenly wrath. 

“Do not be afraid Sam. You know that I would never trick you.” The hunter studied Lucifer’s eyes for a moment longer, before allowing his gaze to travel back down to the free-flowing blood, subconsciously licking his lips in anticipation. His touch was gentler than the archangel had ever felt it as he reached down to grip Lucifer’s arm in his hands. Lucifer’s eyes never left Sam’s face, and he smiled encouragingly when that amber gaze flitted back up for one last signal of approval. 

The moment Sam’s mouth was upon his flesh, the archangel felt an overwhelming satisfaction shoot through every inch of his being. He could feel his own **Grace** flowing easily from him, lapped up by Sam’s warm, eager tongue, connecting them in an entirely new way. 

The effects were nearly instantaneous, and the more Sam drank of him, the stronger the man’s grip became, his fingers squeezing down against the pale flesh, leaving fresh marks in their wake. He drank greedily, and Lucifer was almost loathe to stop him, entranced by the _perfect image_ created by his other half. 

Not until the pull could be felt on his **Grace** did Lucifer manage to bring his mind mind back into focus, a dull pain blooming through him in a more metaphysical sense. Sam would learn control, eventually - but for now, Lucifer would need to guide him. 

“Sam.” He spoke the man’s name quietly, but the reaction was immediate. The archangel hardly had time to react to Sam’s mouth abandoning its task, before it was crashing upon his own. The blood was different from human or demon, a sweet, almost _intoxicating_ taste, without the coppery bite. A muffled grunt of surprise rose up in Lucifer’s throat - this was something _new_. Sam had never kissed him like this, full upon the lips - not in all the countless times they had been through their primitive routine.

After a moment of adjustment, Lucifer found the rhythm and returned the gesture, before Sam pulled away, pushing their foreheads together and panting quietly. 

“Fuck, this feels so good.” The archangel smiled again, bringing his hand up to trace his fingers slowly down Sam’s jawline, beyond pleased with the reaction. 

“It _should_ \- you’ve been waiting for this longer than you know.” 

Sam responded with another hungry kiss, this one gentler and more meaningful than the last, his hands coming up to cradle either side of the archangel’s face. It was pleasant, and Lucifer found himself wishing this had been his first experience with such contact, but he disregarded the useless thought just as easily. 

“Well, thank you… for _everything_ , Lucifer.” Sam’s voice was just above a whisper, his lips brushing against the corner of the archangel’s mouth as he spoke. “And I _am_ sorry - even if you ask me not to be. But I -” 

“ _Sam_. It’s okay. You need this, and I _need_ you to have it. I _want_ you to have it.” This time it was Lucifer to lean forward, to press a gentle kiss to Sam’s lips, chaste, yet slow and tender. He pulled back, his fingers coming up to thread through Sam’s hair, his parted, bloodstained lips brushing against the man’s warm cheek, his cool breath falling gently upon the soft flesh. He knew what Sam was waiting to hear, and it was something the archangel could say with _absolute honesty_ , even if his breath hitched in his throat, and his voice tumbled between his lips in a huff of air. “ _I want it_ , too.” 

Sam’s hands were in his hair, his mouth on every inch of the archangel’s exposed skin as he frantically pushed closer, their bodies flush against one another. Lucifer tilted his head back when Sam’s lips found his neck, the man’s hands falling to the archangel’s shirt, gripping the fabric and pulling him along as he began to move backwards. He allowed Sam to guide him, dropping down on the motel room’s queen-sized bed at the man’s prompting. 

Sam released his hold on the archangel, hastily removing his own shirt and pants, before reaching down to pull off Lucifer’s own jeans, which were still sitting loosely halfway down his hips. Gripping the hem of the archangel’s shirt, he pulled up, and Lucifer raised his arms to allow himself to be stripped of the clothing, falling back when Sam moved to crawl over him. 

It was all so different from any other time, and not only because of their newly deepened connection. Sam’s every movement was laced with _apology_ , his touches tender and careful, his eyes filled with gratitude and, if Lucifer weren’t _convinced_ that it was impossible - something he might call **love**. 

The lust and desire were palpable, but Sam exhibited remarkable control, something the demon blood would have never permitted. Lucifer lost count of the number of times the man whispered an apology, or asked him if he was certain, if he wanted to keep going. 

Lucifer wanted it like _nothing_ he’d ever wanted before. He was finally giving Sam everything he wanted - it was written clearly in the amber eyes, conveyed plainly with every one of the generous number of kisses laid upon his skin. The archangel was content to let everything else be a distant nightmare - to accept this moment as the _only one_ that was true. 

Sam moved with confidence and power, his actions becoming a little less controlled and a little hungrier once he was inside of the archangel, but Lucifer responded with encouragement, relishing the strength behind every thrust, the way their bodies seemed to align just perfectly, like harmony and melody joining together to create a breathless masterpiece. 

He was grateful when Sam coaxed him quietly through the new sensations, and returned the favor, whispering softly and pulling him close, drinking in the sounds of satisfaction as he covered Sam’s mouth with his own. 

In the end, Sam didn’t take his things and go, as he usually would. Instead, he continued to roam Lucifer’s skin with his lips, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every last bruise and mark he had left behind. Their flesh was smeared in blood, and Lucifer had yet to heal the gash in his arm, but all of these points were moot, when considering the gravity of the situation - the complete _shift_ in dynamic. 

Everything felt right, now, to the point of being surreal - and perhaps that was the purity of angel blood, bringing about such a different outcome from the soiled and tainting blood that flowed through demonic veins. Sam rolled onto his back, gathering Lucifer in his arms as though he weren’t the strongest weapon to have ever been created by the hands of **God** \- as though this was something they had done a thousand times before, and would do a thousand times again. 

“Lucifer…” Sam trailed off, a silence falling in the dimly lit room, a heavy calm replacing the ardent display of life and energy that had permeated the entire atmosphere just a moment earlier. “What now?” 

The question drew Lucifer’s ice blue eyes to the hunter’s face, searching for signs of regret or hatred, but greeted by confusion and, _perhaps_ , traces of fear. The archangel shifted easily in Sam’s arms, pushing himself up on his hands so that was looking down at the man’s face. 

“ _Now_? Now, _you_ are in control, Sam.” Lucifer reached up, lying his hand flat over Sam’s chest, his eyes never leaving those of the human. “What do _you_ want?” 

The man’s eyes widened slightly at the question, feeling the weight behind Lucifer’s stare - heavy, in contrast to the light touch upon his chest. Their gazes remained locked as the seconds ticked by, Sam’s hand slowly coming to rest atop the archangel’s, gripping it loosely in his hold and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss to the knuckles. 

“ _This_.” A small, almost dangerous smile crept across his lips, and Lucifer’s sapphire eyes lit up in response. “I want this power, this control… this _love_. I want them to see it all… and I want them to know _justice_. I want them to know what happens to those who doubt us.” 

The answer was better than anything Lucifer had hoped for, and the smile on his face grew a little wider, his eyes filled with a dark anticipation when he nodded in understanding. He leaned down, pressing his lips experimentally to Sam’s own, allowing the man to guide him into a slow, passionate kiss, licking his lips as he pulled away, his face still mere centimeters from Sam’s.

“Then that is _exactly_ what you shall have.” 


End file.
